Jonathan Archer, My Jo!
by Belen09
Summary: A future story about Jonathan Archer and Malcolm Reed.


Jonathan Archer, My Jo!

Belen

Summary: A future story about Jonathan Archer and Malcolm Reed.

Pairing and Rating: Archer/Reed, PG-13

Warning: Deathfic, AU

Note: Not my usual pairing – but given with love . . . For Stan. Here is the inspiration:

John Anderson, my jo! (by Robert Burns)

John Anderson, my jo, John,

When we were first acquent,

Your locks were like the raven,

Your bonie brow was brent,

But now your brow is bled, John,

Your locks are like the snaw,

But blessings on your frost pow,

John Anderson, my jo!

John Anderson, my jo, John,

We clamb the hill thegither,

And mony a canty day,

We've had wi' ane anither.

Now we maun totter down, John,

But hand in hand we'll go,

And sleep thegither at the feet,

John Anderson, my jo!

Malcolm sat on the bench, located in the fenced-in veranda, watching the sunrise, and sipping his Earl Grey tea. He set the cup down on the saucer, which sat on a placemat. At one time he would have insisted on using a tablecloth, but he did admit to himself that since the Englishman did this almost every morning, it made better sense to use a mat. No one could say that he didn't occasionally change if it wasn't intelligent to do so.

He picked up one half of a plain bagel, carefully sliced with a knife and over-coated with stick butter, which his doctor kept insisting was bad for his health. Precisely bit into approximately one-quarter of the bagel, so that a whole bagel could and would be eaten in eight 'bites'. One bit for each measured two sips of tea.

(Reed liked the chew of the dough and the decadence of the 'too much' topping; once his mother had described her disgust at watching her cousin eat an entire stick of butter. He liked butter on almost anything – his mother's cousin had eaten the butter because she was hungry, and it was the only thing available.)

It was almost time to go and visit Jon at the hospital. He had to make sure that he had everything he needed – wallet, car keys, house keys, key to the next door neighbor's house (he always carried the keys with him as a security precaution – it wouldn't do to have someone find 'his keys') 'puzzle book, two lozenges and left pocket full of tissues.

Malcolm always did one puzzle before going into see Jon. It helped to calm his mind and emotions; lately the news had not been good regarding his husband, and he wanted to be as 'reasonable as possible', to try and maintain his composure in the face of adversity.

The retired Starfleet captain had been proud of his ability to 'carry on' even when the outlook of an event was bleak. His colleagues were frankly envious of his talent; command had sent him into situations that would have been the ruin of lesser men, and he didn't flinch. The iron grey of his hair seemed to match the timber of his heart.

His love, the admiral – Jon – knew better, and when Captain Malcolm Reed had come back, again, from a harrowing mission, he would hold the man in his arms, and listen as slowly, carefully, for he had to be precise in giving verbal and written reports, the Englishman would tell of his personal torment, 'the cost of the mission'. No one else would know of his pain – 'it wouldn't be proper' – and many people were counting on him.

Now was the most harrowing mission of all. Jon was in the last stages of his life; Malcolm knew this even though for a long time, the doctors had been optimistic – not realistically optimistic in his 'amateur' opinion. Reed had felt for most of his life that he had 'the sight', an ability to sense when someone was going to die. It was just a 'gut' feeling, something unwanted and avoided as much as possible.

He never told anyone about it – not even Jon; it would have given him incredible pain to have his husband think any less of him – to think he was mad. And sometimes Malcolm felt that he was definitely insane, certifiably insane, if not for knowing that an end must come to life, but for the insistence of sticking through to the 'bitter end.'

Jon had seen him 'pale' when meeting some people. The admiral just thought it was Reed's natural shyness at greeting unknown guests. Malcolm always seemed 'to snap out' of whatever his reluctance was, and became the charming host that most people remarked upon. Yes, the captain could, when he was in his own environment, be extremely pleasant and a good dinner companion – it was when he was in an unfamiliar venue that the aggressive, tactical side of Malcolm Reed came out.

And so, Malcolm sat in his car working a puzzle, trying to order his thoughts and feelings about this visit which he knew was not going to be 'good' as the doctors overseeing Jon's care said that they needed to discuss 'end of life' options. He'd known that this day might come as Jon was older by fourteen years, but it didn't make it any easier to think about.

He sighed, gathered his courage, and made his way into the building.

It was official – only 'palliative' care was to be given to Jon – Malcolm was sure that this was what his husband would want. They had talked about 'quality of life' and how the end of life was less than dignified for many people. And he wanted his love, to live his life, even to the end with honor.

He went back to their home, and sat in the unlit house, watching the shadows creep across the front room. Malcolm had lived his life so much in the 'shadows' – Section Thirty-One, even his service with Starfleet Command was often covert, and frankly he kept his true feelings hidden – except in the case of Jonathan Archer – from everyone. Everyone, and he realized with a pain, that 'even' in the case of Jon . . .

Jon had 'guessed' correctly often, but sometimes not, and coward that he was, he never corrected his husband, about his true reasons for doing or feeling 'things'. It was 'easier' to go with his assumptions than to try to explain in Malcolm's halting, emotion-laden manner what strange and terrifying fears had gripped his heart and soul. Again he was afraid of what 'a fool' his love would think of him. 'I am such a poor example of a human,' he thought.

And when darkness finally brought an end to the shadows, he lay on his empty, too-large bed, and turned on classical music to cozen him to sleep. Grace came to him that night in the form of a 'sudden death', and it was the next morning when the hospital missed his usual visit that they called his neighbor who found him – so called peacefully 'passed away.'

Jon passed away the next week so a joint memorial service was held to honor both men; it was well attended and many funny and sad stories told, although mostly of Archer, for Reed was still a mystery to many. However it must be noted that a special bequest was made by Captain Reed for the education and recruitment of Starfleet officers from all parties to the Federation, not just humans, and that this bequest was instrumental in opening up the 'ranks' as it were, for all to seek service in Starfleet. Many 'beings' were given a chance because of the kindness of Malcolm Reed.

All in all, he was a 'lovely' and loving man.

Jonathan archer 'reached' the other side, and found himself in a beautiful landscape, trees and flowers abounding; he stood and smiled at the well-known figure approaching him, then realized what this meant. "Why are you here, Malcolm? You are younger than me, love." He put his hand to his husband's face to stroke his cheek and feel his body.

"Dear, it's not the years, it's the miles. Come. I've 'checked it out' – it's wonderful!" And he gave Jon Archer, a gentle kiss full of love.


End file.
